Upbringing
by Ephy
Summary: 'Have I been sent back through time' Jason wondered for a second, before opening his eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Drops of rain on a window. Steps on the ceiling, from the flat above. Irregular burst of voices from people arguing. A door being slammed; the muffled shock of something being thrown against a wall without breaking.

Cars, with some honking from time to time, and heels shrieking. A siren, far away; not an ambulance, it sounded more like GCPD.

The noises were eerily familiar, like only memories could be. Yet, they sounded too real for a dream. Jason didn't move just yet, checking himself first. He didn't hurt anywhere, despite feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe he had been drugged?

His wrists weren't bound, though, nor were his ankles. Considering what he could hear, he was above ground, in some kind of flat most certainly. A building from the Bowery or some similar neighborhood, considering the sound insulation – or lack thereof.

He wasn't lying on the ground, either, but on a mattress. It was hard, like he liked them; the kind he usually kept in his safehouses. However, it wasn't on a bed but directly on the ground. No, wait; there was a bed base. That was something.

 _Have I been sent back through time?_ Jason wondered for a second, before opening his eyes.

The place was everything he had thought it would be – damp, barely salubrious, with cheap flooring and wallpaper that has seen better decades – except how it wasn't. He hadn't expected the military-grade lock on the door, nor the security at the window, even less the _weapons_ secured on the wall.

He was alone, so Jason slowly sat. Despise the security, he couldn't possibly have been abducted, because who would be stupid enough to lock him in a place stocked with weapons? After a check, he realized he was still wearing his suit from last night.

Right. He had been at a gala – not even an interesting one – and remembered having talked with people, avoided others. He knew he'd headed back home, ready to go to bed, then…

Then he'd woken up.

Alright, first things first. Whatever reason why he had been brought here, it had been as a civilian, so there was a good chance that people wouldn't know about his skills. Maybe this was a setup? If so, GCPD would arrive pretty quickly.

However, he couldn't just exit the place in his suit; not only that would be asking for trouble but people would remember him. If this was indeed a setup – but why weapons, not drugs or something more obvious like a body? – he didn't want anyone to know he was ever there, even if he managed to go before the GCPD arrived.

He removed his suit's jacket and let it fall on the sheets; he'd have to take both with him anyway, not to leave his hair around. There were gloves on the side of the mattress. He took them; they fit perfectly.

That was weird, but it allowed him to open the cupboard. Surprisingly, it was filled with clothes. All his size.

This was becoming weirder by the minute.

He didn't want to take clothes that might be covered in evidence for a murder somewhere, but he didn't really have the choice. They couldn't have prepared so many sets of clothes anyway so he had to take the chance. He grabbed a pair of combat shoes – nice ones, reinforced with metal – and a dark hoodie long enough to cover his belt. He didn't intend to change pants, since he'd switch back to his suit as soon as he'd get to a friendlier neighborhood.

Grabbing a bag, he put the sheets and jacket inside as well as his shoes. Now; the door didn't seem built to prevent someone getting out, only getting in. Nor did the window, but if he didn't want to get noticed, he'd better just use the stairs.

The door opened. No one was waiting for him in the corridor. He went down the stairs – he was on the fourth floor – and reached the streets without problem.

This smelt _wrong_.

Itchy, he forced himself to use a slow, carefree pace while walking to the nearest station. He winced when he reached it. The place was dirty, with tags from gangs he hadn't seen in _years_ , and others he didn't even recognized. What the hell happened?

Thankfully, the ticket machine still accepted his money, and he got in the first metro back to West Village. There, the difference was even more obvious. Gritting his teeth, he switched back to his suit in the toilets and dropped the bag with the shoes and hoodie in two separated trashes.

Back to street level, he waved for a cab with his most charming smile. He knew his suit was crumpled and his hair all over the place, but people would just think he'd had a long night and had just escaped some girl's flat. He just hoped no journalist would be around to take a picture.

A taxi stopped in front of him. He ignored it to get to the second one – just in case – and slipped inside.

"Where to?" the man asked, not even glancing at him twice.

Things were definitively wrong. Jason decided there was still only one place where he could go. Where he'd most likely get some answers, if nothing else.

"Wayne manor," he ordered.

They were there quickly enough. He left a tip to the driver out of habit, and refused the drivers' offer to stay and be his ride when he'd leave. He waited for him to be gone before climbing the few steps leading to the main entrance, and ring the bell.

Something he hadn't realized to be tense eased when the familiar face of Alfred appeared at the door. He looked tired, but it was him alright.

Then Jason tensed again when he saw Alfred's eyes widen.

"Master Jason?" the butler asked, a bit hesitant.

"It seems so, Alfred," Jason sighed. "Is Bruce home by any chance?"

"He happens to be indeed," Alfred confirmed in a contained tone.

No, not contained. _Wary_.

Jason's heart dropped.

"Please let him know I'm here and willing to talk," he forced out of his throat, along with a smile that the old butler would easily read as fake. "I'm unarmed," he added, just in case.

Alfred started at him, not moving back to let him in but not slamming the door to his face either. Then he raised an eyebrow.

"Who should I announce, exactly?"

Well, if he wanted to play cards on table, who was Jason to stop him?

"Jason Wayne."

That took a soft breath out of Alfred, but he finally stepped aside. Jason entered the manor, checking for differences – but no. Mostly was exactly as he remembered.

Of course, Alfred didn't leave his side. He obviously had labeled him as a threat and wouldn't leave him alone. Instead, he most probably had called Bruce in a way or another. It was the beginning of the afternoon so if Bruce was at the manor he most probably was checking the latest news in the Cave. He wouldn't have been up for long.

Granted, when Bruce appeared, he was wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The real shock was his face.

"Damn," Jason breathed. "You're old."

Then he took in every other way in which Bruce was different. His face was entirely closed, no emotions showing in a way he had never quite managed while being younger. His eyes were cold ice, not the eyes of a killer but certainly ruthless. His stand was confident, but guarded; he too considered Jason as a threat.

All in all, he was merely missing the cowl. This wasn't Bruce; this was Batman.

Jason straightened, toning down the threat by opening his empty hands.

"My apologies for the intrusion but it looks like I need your help."

"You aren't Jason," Bruce declared.

Jason snorted. Well, that cleared out the time travel possibility, didn't it?

"I'm as much Jason as you are Bruce. But no, I don't think I belong here. Is this still 2016?"

Bruce only answered with a curt nod.

"Then this isn't my Gotham, nor you my Bruce. Considering your stance, I can safely assume that you have more entertaining nights than the average billionaire, however."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. Jason sighed.

"Tranq me if it makes you feel better, but I'm willing to follow whatever security protocols you put in place for those scenarios." He'd rather _not_ – after all this Bruce might be a villain rather than a hero – but he didn't have more easily accessible resources and he wouldn't be able to exit the manor now that he'd come inside. How sloppy of him, not to have checked beforehand. He must have been dizzier than he first assessed.

Bruce was still staring at him. Jason frowned.

"You _do_ have protocols, don't you?"

There was a silence exchange between Bruce and Alfred, before the former relaxed a little bit.

"I do," he admitted at last. "We have encountered other Earths before. Some weren't friendly. Can you quickly summarize your status where you come from?"

Jason rolled his eyes briefly.

"As previously stated, I am Jason Wayne. Heir of Wayne ent. and Bruce Wayne's older brother."

sososo

 _Notes:_

 _Hellooo~ So I'm not sure where this is going yet, but I've wanted to write about Jason Wayne for quite some time now, so here it is._

 _I hope you'll enjoy the fic!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: Still inspired, apparently :) Thank you all for your comments!_

 **Chapter 2**

It was hard not to remember the day when the men in black had come. Jason hadn't made any joke about aliens. First, because gothamites didn't make jokes about things that could possibly happen in their city someday. Then because those had obviously been either mobsters coming for some payback or officials. None of which were good news.

So Jason had run. He had been living in the streets for four years and was good at it. Good at survival, good at fighting, good at avoiding cops even on what they claimed to be their territory. Gotham was _his_ , always had been. No one knew her better than he did.

He had managed to hide for some time – but they hadn't left. They had stayed around Crime Alley, then spread all over the Bowery, asking about _Jason Todd_. That had closed him all the doors which might otherwise have been open. After a week, he'd been starving, and left with one choice: leaving Gotham or ask what the hell they wanted from him.

Gotham was his city. He wasn't about to let people scare him away. So he had gone to them, chin high, ready to be killed or worse.

Instead, they had brought him to Wayne manor, where an old butler and a young, broken kid had been waiting, surrounded by an army of lawyers and journalists.

Jason had ignored the adults and gone straight to the kid. The butler, whom he hadn't known by name at that point, and whom he certainly hadn't trusted yet, had won his first good point by making a protective gesture toward his charge. As for the younger teenager himself, he was obviously grieving and scared out of his mind, but he had still stared at Jason right in the eyes.

"They say you are my half-brother," the kid had declared, the first one to give Jason an actual explanation for his presence there. "That you are my father's illegitimate son."

Jason had winced, because it was hard to ignore where he was even if he hadn't been told, with all the stylized W's everywhere, the same as in several spots of the city itself. The Wayne's murder had been all over the news, as well as the way the shareholders were trying to take his inheritance from their orphan kid, so even a street rat like him had some idea of the situation.

"I've got no idea if I am," Jason had admitted brutally. Then added, more softly, "I can disappear. This isn't my life."

Surprisingly, the kid, Bruce, had shaken his head.

"Family is important," he had said.

Observing him, Jason had only been able to see a rich kid, soft and young; maybe 12 to Jason's 14. Being who he was, Bruce Wayne shouldn't have known a thing about life. He ought to have still lived in the little golden bubble his pairs grew up in. Then his parents had been murdered in front of his eyes.

He had still been a kid, and still rich. But he had known, from that point on, some facts about life that no kid should be aware of.

So Jason had shrugged.

"I guess this makes you my brother." And with a smirk, "Should I tell those guys to get the hell out of your house?"

Bruce had stared at him with surprise. Jason had snorted at him.

"I'm the oldest, ain't I? That means protection."

Bruce had stared some more. Then, slowly, he had nodded.

"Please, do."

Jason's smirk had widened. Twenty minutes later, the only adult remaining in the house had been Alfred.

Since then, Wayne manor had become his home. Mostly. There had been good days and bad days, especially at the beginning, but he had found himself a family. Bruce certainly had needed one as much as Jason.

A home he could call his…. Well, until now, at least.

Jason was slightly aggravated by the situation, but he was willing to be patient. After getting over the fact that he was his half-brother – at least in his Earth – Bruce had brought him to the Cave and promptly parked him in one of the holding cells. It was angled so he couldn't see the screen of the Batcomputer, while being close enough for Bruce to be able to keep an eye on him.

Which was marvelous, because it meant Jason could observe _him_.

The first test had of course been based on his DNA, but if the technology was anything like in his world, it would take at least a few hours for the results to be ready. Jason was actually curious to discover if he was genetically Thomas Wayne's son in this world as well, or if _his_ Bruce didn't share all his genetic material with this one.

There were other things to check in the meantime, such as his blood, his facial structure, and his bones, which would give away his training in case his behavior hadn't been obvious enough. Jason might not see the screen; he knew Bruce well enough.

Which meant he hadn't asked any question, nor talked at all since the tests had started. Alfred came and went, cleaning the place, bringing tea to both Bruce and he – his favorite, even, so he shared at least some of his doppelganger's taste.

Despite this most probably being half a test as well, Jason had thanked the old butler with a sincere smile. He might be patient when he put his mind to it, he was glad to at least have tea to pass the time.

And he waited. And kept waiting.

This Bruce seemed much more patient than his Bruce. Then again, he looked at least ten years older – that gave Jason some hope. _Maybe_ his little brother would learn that as well at some point.

This was, however, still Bruce. Jason could see him tensing more and more with every minute passing. He hid it well; but there was no mistake. Jason could guess this man wasn't used at having this technique – his own, really – sent back to his face.

Having someone at his back, in his own house, who _ought_ to wonder what was going to happen, _ought_ to have started talking and hence give up little pieces of information. And who _wasn't asking_.

Jason was too far to hear the sigh, but he still saw when Bruce had enough.

"Was it on your mother's side or your father's?" he asked abruptly.

Jason rolled his eyes. Of course Bruce's first question would regard his parents.

"Father. _Don't_ start explaining how much of a saint he was; I heard it all already. I'm sure he loved his wife very much. Those things still happens, even in the best families."

The grunt he got as answer was so much _Bruce_ that he couldn't refrain a chuckle. The man at the computer turned around, a metaphorical cape flying behind his shoulders. Jason managed to keep the exasperation from his face.

A vigilante, honestly. How many Bruce in all Earths had made the same mistake?

"Your father didn't do the same mistake as mine," Jason added to calm him down.

That got him a pointed look.

"You call yourself being born a mistake?" Bruce pointed out.

"Well, despite the benefits on my side, from Thomas Wayne's perspective, it most certainly was," Jason mocked gently.

That answer seemed to unsettle Bruce. What had he expected? Lack of confidence?

Mhh. Considering this Bruce's older age, he had imagined his doppelganger would be, likewise, older. However, this presumption might have been incorrect.

"How old is my other self?" Jason asked.

Having started the conversation, Bruce had no choice if he wanted it to keep going and to dig more information than to answer.

"22," he said grudgingly.

Rather than his 28. Well. His Bruce was 26...

"And you must be about 35?" Jason guessed, before frowing. "Oh no. You didn't _adopt_ me, did you?"

Bruce didn't really wince. He didn't need to. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose.

Then he realized the implications, and paled.

"You were alone," he stated out loud. "You adopted Dick later on as well, didn't you? You were _alone_ when you started." His incredulity was quickly turning into anger. "You were alone and you _still decided to start this fucking crusade_."

Bruce merely stared at him. Jason forced himself to lower his eyes not to _glare_ right back at him. He managed to smile, though with too many teeth, and brought his eyes back to Bruce's face.

"I hope there is, in all the world, at least one Bruce Wayne who didn't choose to follow this path."

"One of them didn't," was Bruce's immediate answer. Then, after a moment of silence, "He became a criminal instead."

On those words, he turned back to the computer and kept working.

Jason exhaled slowly through his nose, wishing for anything else to deal with – even Luthor on a bad day wouldn't be as difficult to handle as _this_.

###

There had been a time when soft, clean sheets had welcomed Jason back to awareness. A time when the only sound to be heard had been birds in the garden, and the smell of coffee had been a promise of family breakfast and cheerful mornings.

Jason's eyes snapped wide open, his body jumping in a crouch even before his mind was totally awake. His instinct screamed that he was at the manor.

Then he looked around him, only to gape; because he was, in fact at the manor.

"What the hell…?"

His head felt dizzy, and he winced at the too bright window whose curtains weren't closed. He looked around the room to give his eyes some time to recover.

It really looked like the manor; he recognized the old wooden floor and ceiling pattern. Yet, he couldn't imagine a scenario that would lead to him being there. If Bruce had caught him – and he had no recollection of _that_ happening – he would have brought to the Cave, if not directly to Blackgate. So how…?

He could feel his gear still on him, so at least there was that. And yet it was another cause of worry; why wouldn't Bruce have taken it away from him? At least his damn _guns_. But no, here they were in their respective holsters. His side hurt – his everything hurt – because he had slept in armor.

The room was weirdly familiar, yet he was sure he had never been in it. The bed he recognized as his old one, or a similar one at least; some of the manor's furniture had been bought at the same time after all. There was a soft carpet at his feet, looking comfortable enough to actually sleep on it, and a board, light-wooden desk beneath the window. The farthest wall had been covered in books, fitting in an obviously custom-made shelf. A recent one, too, not part of the original design; it fit perfectly but Jason could see the differences with the overall feeling of the house.

Besides, if there had been such a library in any other room than Bruce's study, he would have known about it.

He slipped out of the bed toward the window now that his eyes had stopped hurting – and stared in disbelief. Yeah, he definitely was at the manor. He would have recognized this view among thousand, for having seen it regularly back when he lived there. From _Dick's bedroom_.

"What the fuck…?"

 _This_ certainly wasn't Dick's room, and Jason was equally sure Alfred wouldn't have modified it so much without Dick's approval. And Dick would never had wanted it to look like this – it just didn't _fit_ him.

Alright. He needed more information. Preferably before crossing path with anyone from his so-called family.

He opened the window and slipped out. Once on the ground, he hesitated, then headed quickly to the garage. He didn't recognize any of the cars but among those stood a gorgeous black Ducati.

He smirked. Oh, _yeah_.

###

 _Note: Just let me know what you think of the fic ;) Encouragement are of course welcome, but so are critics!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Notes: Lots of ideas + lots of comments = lots of chapters. Thank you all! :)_

 **Chapter 3**

The skyline didn't differ much from the one Jason was used to. Same old buildings, same gothic shadows. And yet, there was a particular feeling about it; something that didn't quite match his memories of the city.

And hell did he knew Gotham well. She was _his city_ , always had been, even before he'd ended up in the streets. He knew her by heart, and had taken pleasure into learning her again when he'd come back as the Red Hood. Even then, with him having been away for years, it had felt like slipping back in an old pair of shoes, worn just where it should be.

But right now? This place – it didn't feel like his city. The buildings were the same, but the old factories from the Industrial District seemed to have regained some vigor despite their age, workers busy all around the place, making it more alive then Jason had ever seen it. It didn't even look like they were all producing drugs.

In residential neighborhoods, a few playgrounds and parks had popped out of waste grounds. Considering at least some of those used to belong to the mob, Jason wondered how many bodies had had to be dug out of the ground before anything could be built over it. Or had the bodies been left there?

More disturbingly, those places looked _clean_ – and here was the main difference between _his_ Gotham and this, the one thing that assured him he was in another Earth and hadn't merely gone time-jumping. No tags, except where beautiful pieces of street art had been allowed, no bottles of beer, no used condoms hidden in the bushes. Any mother would happily wander there with her children on a Sunday afternoon; or even let them play by themselves after dark.

Street lamps had been installed all around those spots. Jason bet his glocks against nothing that they were even working.

What the fuck had happened to this Gotham to make it feel like freakin' _Metropolis?_

Dark alleys weren't any less dangerous, of course, and the Bowery wasn't exactly a cheerful place to be around. Prostitutes still shook their asses to attract john's attentions. But the subtle changes were there nonetheless; hard to spot for a newcomer but obvious to Jason's trained eyes.

He _had_ to find out what had been different here. If anything could make Gotham even slightly better… He needed to know if he could make it happen on his Earth as well.

Of course, he would have to pile up newspapers and browse the city archives. However, before that, he felt the need to take the pulse of the city itself, and not just by observing from a rooftop.

So he hid some of his gear, procured himself a cap to hide his face and a loose sweatshirt to put over his armor. His pants and boots could easily pass for the kind any thug would wear, so they wouldn't be a problem. Once ready, he made sure his guns were properly concealed by his clothes, then hit the ground in Crime Alley.

The people there eyed him suspiciously – so at least some of this city felt normal. Jason walked around, then stopped to buy cigarettes to a press shop. The owner was the same guy he remembered from last time he'd been around, though he obviously didn't recognize him. Admittedly, he didn't even peeked at his face; people from Crime Alley knew how to avoid problems.

Stepping out, Jason lit a smoke. He had stopped years ago, but made an exception from time to time when he was undercover. A newcomer like him in this specific street would attract too many comments if he didn't have a reason to be idle. Smoking made him slightly less suspicious.

That when he spotted it – and almost swallowed his cigarette. Honestly, he didn't know how he hadn't noticed before; the change was pretty obvious.

The building which had once contained the Monarch Theater was still standing, but the facade had been modified. Drastically.

Transfixed, he took a few steps toward the entrance, then a few more, until standing right in front of the open doors. On the wall, under stylized initials, a plate announced the Thomas Wayne Medical Center. Two dates soberly reminded that the man who had given his name to the place had been killed a few paces away.

Jason reminded himself to breathe. Fuck. It was still a shock.

Then he realized that there were no mentions of Martha Wayne. Hadn't she been killed at the same time? Was that the difference? Did it mean Bruce hadn't become Batman?

This latter thought was promptly contradicted by a shadow hovering over the pavement. The sun was barely starting to disappear behind the horizon; it was early for him to be there.

Except, of course, if he had come for a reason.

Jason pursed his lips. The shadow had disappeared in an alley nearby. He could recognize an invitation when he saw one, and decided he'd rather talk than provoke a fight. Especially there.

So he followed the same direction and, sure enough, Batman landed right next to him as soon as he got out of view.

"Jason…?"

Well, well, damn him if this didn't sound _fucking young_. The bare jaw also looked softer than Jason ever remembered it being – matching the city.

"Apparently," he admitted out loud.

There was no mistake about the glare, though. It was definitively Bruce under the cowl. A younger, less experimented Bruce. Fuck, was this his first year of vigilantism? Even before he'd met Dick?

"Who are you?" mini-Bruce tried to growl, not quite managing to hide his fear.

 _Fear_. Damn, Bruce.

So of course Jason had to smirk, dangerous and mean.

"You mewl!" he mocked. "But I _am_ Jason Todd. From another Earth, though, obviously."

Batman's face fell. Jason almost winced at that. He hadn't thought things through. If he had his double had been swapped, obviously he and this Earth's Bruce had been close. After all, Jason had woken up in a room at the _manor_.

However, with Bruce, this alone didn't mean much. His expression right now _did_.

"Are you two lovers?" Jason asked.

He had expected a lot of reaction to that, but utter shock hadn't been part of it.

"We are _brothers!_ " Bruce all but yelped.

Jason blinked. Brothers?

Bruce obviously noticed his surprise, because his muscles played under the cowl. He was frowning.

Then he waved at the street nearby. Crime Alley.

"Yes, Jason _Wayne_ is my brother. See his initials on the Medical Center over there?"

It was Jason's turn to frown. He glanced out of the darker alley to take a good look at the hospital nearby – and realized that, indeed, the stylized initials printed over the plaque weren't T.W. as he'd thought. But J.W.

Jason Wayne. Who had founded a hospital wearing the name of Bruce's father.

Of _his father_.

"I'll be damned," Jason whispered under his breath.

###

"I'll be damned," Jason whispered under his breath.

He'd been parked in the Cave for most of the day, and could only guess that the sun had just set, since Robin had just stepped inside in full costume.

That was just so _cute_. Or would have been if it didn't mean that a _ten year old kid_ had been deemed ready to _fight criminals_. Not that he had managed to convince Damian to stay inside in his own Earth; it was hard to find arguments when one was confronted to a League-trained assassin, however young.

"Damian is _Robin_?" Jason asked, just to confirm what his eyes were telling him. "What happened to Dick?"

The kid frowned.

"Father. What is Todd doing in a containing cell? Not that this isn't the right way to deal with the likes of him."

Apparently some things were immutable. One could bend still over Damian's pride – and break it on his need for recognition.

"Here go my hopes about my doppelganger not being a supervillain," Jason sighed out loud.

Damian made a good impression of Bruce's glare.

"You mean you are not, yourself?"

Ah. Two minutes and he had already realized Jason didn't belong to this world. _Good_. Though considering where he had woken up and what little Damian had just given away about his doppelganger, Jason guessed only a drunken blind would have mistaken them for each other, even without the age difference.

However, the brat was still talking too much.

"You do realize that you've just surrendered a useful piece of information without getting anything in return?" Jason pointed out. "Something that Bruce managed _not_ to do during the whole… six hours? Of my stay within those walls."

Damian looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon. Not that this wasn't a usual face of his. Jason smiled fondly.

"Pray go to your father," he demanded casually, the order carefully masqueraded under the pretense of request, "for him to give you some advice about how to deal with potential threat."

"You are no threat, Todd!" Damian corrected, too sharply for it not to be a tentative to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

A hand he never had to begin with.

Jason decided to be magnanimous and turned to Bruce.

"He takes that stubbornness from you, you know? Talia might be strong willed, but not unreasonably so."

That got him an intense look from the local Batman. The man really was all what Jason's kid brother strived to be, without quite managing so. Maybe Jason held him back – but he did so on purpose. He didn't want Bruce to become Batman. He wanted Bruce to be _happy_.

He wondered if this one was.

"You said you were the heir of Wayne enterprises in your world," the local Batman inquired instead of confirming what Jason might or might not know about Talia.

Of course, he didn't follow this statement with any question. Leaving the field open was the best way to let people give away more information than they were willing to. Fortunately for him, Jason didn't mind. He had observed long enough in silence; he needed more interaction to gain additional knowledge.

"It might have been stretching the truth," Jason admitted. "My brother is still heir in name, and officially holds most parts, but I am the company's COO." He smiled at Bruce's, pretending to see his surprise. "It started with the Foundation. I suppose it exists here as well?"

Bruce gave him only the smallest nod. Showing less restrain, Damian was blatantly staring at him.

"When it was first discovered that I was, in fact, Thomas Wayne's illegitimate son, I devoted a lot of time to learn about business," Jason elaborated. "Considering the neighborhood I grew up in, the possibility to use the Foundation to improve the situation struck me as an obvious choice."

"So you aren't _trained_?" Damian asked, incredulous.

Jason arched an eyebrow.

"Would _you_ have let a younger brother run around the world alone to learn how to become a warrior?" Jason pointed out.

Bruce's eyes focused on him.

"You are League-trained," he said flatly.

Jason offered him his sweetest smile.

"Aren't you?"

He didn't need to even glance toward Damian. The question was merely rhetorical.

"Now that my level of threat has been established, may I ask either you intend to keep me locked until you find a way to send me back?"

Bruce observed him without a word. Damian frowned, but refrained from pointing out that they had no reason to believe anything Jason had just said. Jason hoped that he realized no villain would knock at their door then point out how dangerous he was just so he could circulate among them. Well, except maybe Luthor; but Luthor would be dangerous even inside of this cell.

Admittedly, so was Jason.

"I will let you out," Bruce finally answered, his gaze still firmly fixed on Jason. "I just need you to meet someone first."

###

 _Notes: I'm having a lot of fun with both Jasons. They are both good at driving Bruces insane :)_

 _Feedback is much appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Notes: I was asked, by anonymous comment, if I intended to keep this family or if I'd make a romance. The fact is, I'm not sure myself yet. If there_ _ **is**_ _a romance, please be assured it will be cross-world Jason/Bruce; so no paternal nor fraternal figure, except in a very messed up way. (But then, Jason is kind of messed up). In any case, I'll add a warning at the top of the chapter if I ever switch to romance :)_

 _Finnland93: thank you for your review! I hope this answered your question, however opaquely. In any case, I hope you'll like this chapter!_

 **Chapter 4**

Jason followed Bruce to the top of the nearest building, then across a few streets, getting away from Crime alley. Not that he intended to follow him like a good little pup; but that place meant too much for both of them for Jason to argue there. Besides, he needed time to think.

Jason Wayne, brother of Bruce Wayne. It was just so weird.

This younger Bruce hadn't said where they were heading; maybe he hadn't decided yet, or he simply headed to the Cave by default. The manor was well outside Gotham, though; which meant their current target would actually be…

Jason snorted when he spotted the Batmobile in a street a few blocks away. Bruce was so predictable.

He glanced at the silent figure moving ahead of him in the shadows, its movements both familiar and foreign. This Bruce was young, barely older than Jason. Alright, maybe five years or so older, but they probably had spent about the same amount of time in the streets.

Jason smirked.

His curved knife sliced Batman's line neatly while it was just about to tense. Jason saw his eyes widen as his momentum sent him straight to a wall. Of course, he opened the cape, slowing himself down – which allowed Jason to crash on his side, feet first.

Bruce let go the cape, trying to grab Jason's ankle for them to fall together. Jason stabbed his knife between two bricks in order to change his direction, dodging his hand, and finding himself on top once more. Two batarang came at his head; he pushed against the wall to avoid them, and threw one of his own to force Bruce to move instead than waiting for him once he'd hit the ground.

Jason landed a second later, rolling on the dirty pavement to get closer to his opponent. The alley where they'd fallen was narrow enough to impediment Bruce's movements – the cape couldn't always be an advantage. Bruce's best chance was to keep enough distance to aim his batarangs; he was better with them than Jason, who favored guns as long-range weapon. Better not bring _those_ to this fight.

Jason reached Bruce before he had the time to retreat, aiming for the knees, waist, and other junctions where the armor would be more vulnerable. Bruce took the first punch, parried the second; then, instead of taking advantage of his bulk to endure a few blows so he could enter Jason's guard, he started dodging.

Jason blinked. Bruce's movements were fluids, sharper than expected. Jumping, he pushed against the wall to fuel his movement, gracefully jumping over Jason's head to land on the other side of the alley, throwing a few batarangs in the process.

Jason felt a laugh bubble his way to his throat and let it, delighted. The alley still gave him an advantage, yet he found himself firing his line to go back to the roof, where Bruce would be able to fight with all his skill. He wanted to _see_ how good he was; damn the consequences.

Bruce thankfully followed, either too frustrated or too worried to disappear in the shadows to sneak on him instead. Jason was waiting for him. He kicked first, trying to trip him, then to grab his cape as Bruce jumped over his head again. To his surprise, Bruce let go of it, and the thing draped itself around Jason. He dodged a blow to his jaw, cursing as he had to cut himself free. Thankfully, he still had his kriss – he sure wouldn't have abandoned _that_ knife on the top of a building.

They circled each other, Jason grinning, Bruce trying to keep a straight face. But Jason could see it in him too, the adrenaline, the joy to face a valuable opponent.

He tried not to wonder if Bruce had been like that, back when Dick met him. How would have it been, not to be the first but to meet a younger, sharper Bruce?

Pushing the thoughts away, Jason attacked once more, refraining from using his knife. Bruce interpreted it correctly as a wish to spar as opposed as to maim, and finally allowed his lips to curve slightly. They clashed at the middle of the rooftop, exchanging blows, each movement meeting its perfect counter, so fluid it could have been a choreography.

Fuck, this felt good.

Then Bruce's fist crashed on Jason's face, while Jason's got him right in the stomach, and they jumped backward to take a break. Their smiles had grown into grins.

Jason shrugged, and offered him his hand. Bruce blinked, then took it, shaking it with some dose of respect.

"So," Jason said eventually. "The Cave?"

Bruce nodded, always the chatterbox; and they both dropped to the Batmobile.

###

Talia had always been a remarkable woman. Strong-willed; self-confident; and skilled enough to have beaten Bruce and Jason both back when they'd arrived at the League of Shadows to request Ra's al Ghul's guidance.

She had managed to keep the upper hand ever after they'd become enough of a challenge to win their fights from time to time. It wasn't just the skill. She knew her worth; and she knew _they_ knew. Jason admitted freely that he had been _fascinated_.

Few women could pull this off. Few _people_ , women, men or alien.

Of course, he couldn't have let anything happen between them, not knowing that any attempt at seduction would have been commanded by Ra's. But still, there had been an _intensity_ to their fights, and he'd thought – he'd _known_ – that there had been something more. Something that had grown stronger as he refused her advances.

Then Bruce had given in to her, the fool, and that had ended it.

Jason would have strangled him. Not because he'd had Talia – it wasn't the first time Bruce had won the girl, and it wouldn't be the last – but because he'd done so without thinking about the consequences.

Those had materialized only years later, though, when they'd found Damian at their doorstep.

The Damian from this world looked only a couple of years older than the one he considered his godson. It was fascinating to spot the similarities, the differences. Here, too, the kid was obviously Bruce's. He looked more comfortable in this Cave than his godson was in theirs, but considering the age difference, he'd probably been living longer with the Wayne part of his family.

Jason hadn't seen him interact with anyone else than Bruce and Alfred – they'd banned their other allies from the Cave since he'd arrived – but Damian was obviously at ease with the two men.

Apparently, things were different with the young woman who'd just entered the Cave. She looked dangerous enough for Jason to directly have thought of Talia, though she lacked the Demon's daughter's sensuality.

Damian tensed slightly as she approached – _only_ slightly, which spoke volumes about how much he trusted her. An assassin didn't trust other assassins, especially ones skilled enough to be a threat.

Yet he let her close enough to be within her reach. In return, diplomatically, the young woman allowed him to enter in her personal space, where he would be able to fight back.

Jason raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his surprise. Of course, this Bruce had trained with the League as well; and of course he was surrounded by skilled people. But this woman was different. She wasn't merely dangerous; she was _lethal_. It showed in her every movement, in how she stood, in the way her eyes moved around.

Slowly, Jason felt himself smile. How not to be glad about meeting someone that interesting?

To his surprise, Bruce guided her to him, Damian staying a few paces behind. They stopped in front of his cell, and Jason felt her focus on him. Her attention didn't feel as oppressing as he would have thought. It was almost… gentle? Curious, not aggressive.

"Jason, this is Cassandra. She and I work together. Cassandra, this is a Jason from another Earth. I would like you to assess him."

Jason blinked. Assess? Was she a meta? He reevaluated her from 'dangerous' to 'unsafe to be around' in the blink of an eye, his instincts screaming him not to allow her near him. Yet the young girl merely blinked at Bruce, perplexed, before coming closer to the cell's transparent door. Jason muzzled his instincts, smiling at her instead of retreating.

She observed him for some time. He paid close attention to his thoughts, but didn't feel any mental tug. Either she was better than anyone he knew or she wasn't a mind reader.

After a time, she scowled, glancing at Bruce. He tilted his head. She seemed to understand his silent question and waved at the cell's door.

"I need to go inside." Then she frowned. "No. Him, outside."

Jason didn't let his face show his perplexity at the lack of fluidity in her speech pattern. Maybe English wasn't her native language? She did seem to have Asian origins, but considering how everyone in the States came from somewhere else, one to ten generations back, he had simply assumed she was from around Gotham. Stupid of him, considering her level of skill.

His surprise increased as Bruce nodded to her request. He did, however, wave at Damian to have the boy come closer to him. Then the door slid open.

Jason blinked, looking at the girl. She took a few steps back, giving him space. He fought back the need to purse his lips, offering her a smile instead, and stepped out.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"What now?"

Her eyes sparkled briefly – and she rushed forward, Jason only dodging by pure instinct. What the… She might be lethal, Jason didn't want to _hurt_ her! Lethal or not, she was a kid. He retreated on the left, away from Bruce and Damian, not to find himself walking back in his cell. She was too quick for him to just move away, though; lighter than him, more agile, and too precise to be dismissed.

Damn. She was forcing his hand, here. But then, maybe that was the point.

So Jason stopped dodging and struck, making sure never to pause his movements even though touching her proved to be challenging. He only need to hit her once. However trained, she just wasn't bulky enough to take many of his blows without serious damage.

Not that he wanted to inflict any; he dared hoping that the pain would be enough. Finally, he caught her, a punch in the stomach that sent her stumbling back, certainly hard enough to have emptied her lungs. Yet she came back at him, not even blinking.

Alright, hoping pain would stop her had been naive. But she wasn't a criminal, and she was _too good_ for him to fight her without giving everything, damn her.

He fell back on the defensive. She might be a lightweight, but he wasn't; as long as he kept her from landing a nerve strike, he should stay able to fight.

Or he could just unbalance her, though _that_ would be difficult. Yet he switched to aikido, a martial art he rarely used but which had its advantages, and took her by surprise. She saw his movement change, but was already too caught in her own momentum to backpedal, and he managed to enhance her own movement and locked her in a painful wrist key.

" _Don't_ try to move away, this test isn't worth getting a bone broken," he warned.

She pouted, then grinned, then nodded. He released her, absentmindedly parrying her kick and a subsequent blow, because of _course_ she would check if he was still on his guard despite their little match being finished.

"Yes, I do know fights don't end when one says uncle in real life, kiddo."

Her grin widened as she nodded at him. She walked back to Bruce, light on her feet.

"I like him," she declared.

Bruce frowned.

"I wasn't talking about his strength."

She shook her head, and replicated slowly a few of Jason's prior moves, when he'd retreated instead of attacking after his first blow, then when he'd switched to aikido's reactive moves.

"He _cares_ ," she declared, her tone final.

Bruce looked at her insistently, but she didn't back off. Eventually, he moved back to the console and pushed a button, closing the cell's door.

Jason blinked. Apparently, he'd just won some amount of trust. Dumbfounded, he eyed Cassandra – who winked at him. She waved at him to get closer, her other hand pointing at the mats nearby, then closing into a fist.

"You want to spar?" Jason tried.

Her grin turned sharper. Jason observed her. She had just given an assessment after a few passes, one Bruce trusted. She had fought with movements even more natural than Dick's, and a strength well hidden in this young body of hers. More than that, she had seemed to anticipate most of his own moves, only surprised when he'd changed pattern in a last minute decision.

She could read him, he realized. That's why Bruce trusted her opinion so much. He had labeled Jason as a liar – which, admittedly, he kind of was; being COO of a company like Wayne ent. did that to a guy – and had hence decided to seek the advice of someone who wouldn't listen this his _words_.

Which also meant she didn't merely invite him to spar; but to converse.

Jason relaxed, letting his eyes soften, and bowed slightly for her to lead the way. She almost blushed at that, pointing an accusing finger at him. Five minutes later, she was punching her arguments pretty clearly, while he silently laughed at her.

###

 _Notes: Hope you guys still like this :) Harder chapter to write with all the fighting; but I managed eventually XD_

 _And thank you all for your encouragements, it helps a lot :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Notes: Sorry, I have absolutely no excuse for this chapter taking that long v_v I feel like I don't have enough of a plan for this story so it's a bit of a struggle to know what to put in the scenes, but this chapter was almost finished, so..._

###

 _Earth ? - Jason Todd_

Jason parked his stolen Ducati next to the Batmobile, disappointed at the idea to leave it there. He removed his helmet and followed Bruce to the main platform, looking around. The Cave looked much the same as Jason remembered it from back when he'd been Robin. In his world, it had probably changed since, accumulating shinier toys and harsh memories, probably gaining in security what it lost in gloominess.

But in the Earth he was now – could he attribute a number himself, he wondered – Bruce was still relatively new to the cowl. Well. Newer, in any case. He looked terribly young to Jason's eyes but, after a fashion, Jason had realized this Bruce was actually still a couple of years older than him. Which meant he'd been doing this for maybe half a decade already.

It was still kind of weird to see him so… green. Despise kid-Bruce being older than Jason, they had the same amount of experience in the field. Jason, after all, had started being Robin at 14, seven years earlier. Even if his year training with Talia's teachers and the six months he'd spent brainless where not to be taken into account, that still made five years.

And, obviously, he'd had a better mentor in the person of Bruce himself.

Jason pushed those thoughts away to scan the Cave. However familiar, it wasn't the one he remembered – and even that one he hadn't visited in years. He didn't know the escape routes, the available tools. Besides, observing the place could only teach him about kid-Bruce (he really had to find a way to differentiate them, if only in his thoughts, or he'd soon drive himself crazy).

The bat-computer stood in the middle of the room, clearly the heart of the operation. The penny and dinosaur stood in the background. Peculiarly, the Joker card was missing.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the manor were aligned several suits. Not all were Batman's. Apparently, there were at least two sidekicks, or one who had grown older; but their technology looked close enough for Jason to bet on two different people.

The first suit was obviously Robin's, despite the lack of scaled underwear. And it was adult-sized. A soon-to-be-former Robin, possibly.

The second costume had a darker edge. Not only it avoided yellows and reds to focus on harder tones of black and grey, but its gauntlets wore short spikes which would certainly give its bearer an edge in hand-to-hand combat, and there were straps for additional batarangs along the thighs.

Jason felt himself tense. He could take Bruce alone – more or less – and might have been able to get away if he had to face him and his Robin. But with two sidekicks around, he clearly was overmatched. He'd been a fool to come here.

On the other hand, he couldn't have found a way to go back to his world all by himself. And while being around this Earth, he'd better learn more about the local vigilantes.

"You've got yourself quite a family," he commented, pointing his thumb toward the suits. The local Jason might be kid-Bruce's brother, the man still seemed to have the need to pick up strays.

Bruce pursed his lips, nodding reluctantly. So, of course, Jason felt the need to push.

"Robin and… what's the demon brat called? Is it bird-themed as well?"

This time, Bruce actually flinched. Really, B-man?

"Don't assume that our worlds are similar," Bruce then said in his sternest tone.

Jason snorted.

"I won't, if you tell me the eldest doesn't call himself Robin."

Bruce grumbled, heading for the computer without answering. Jason rolled his eyes.

"I thought so. It is Dick, then? And, what, Damian? No one else?"

Bruce frowned at this latest question, so Jason supposed Tim Drake wasn't around. Good. Even though their relationship had calmed down since the early days, he had no wish to play friends with his replacement's doppelganger, who wouldn't know anything about their history and might easily trigger Jason's anger without meaning to.

To be truthful, it was weird to interact with doppelgangers in general; and the closer they were from the originals, the weirder it got.

"We're not here to talk about me," Bruce growled, his voice almost as impressive as it would become ten years down the line.

"Do you even have the technology to travel through world?" Jason shot back.

Bruce tensed– and, suddenly, so did Jason, a weight settling in his stomach. Somehow, he didn't think the people from his Earth would bother looking for him. Hell, they probably wouldn't even notice he was gone. They certainly wouldn't miss him.

Though they might try to find a way to send Jason Wayne back. Hopefully.

"Is there any kind of Justice League here?" Jason settled on asking. "Not a big fan, but if there's nothing on this planet which might help me…"

"I'll contact them."

The tone was definitive as a door closing. Jason grit his teeth.

"I came here, didn't I? I'll play by the rules. But if you want to find your brother again? You'll need my help, and I won't be able to provide if it you shut me down."

Bruce observed him silently through the unnerving gaze of the cowl. Then, he turned back to the computer.

"We'll see."

Jason clenched his fists. Were Bruces from all Earths assholes? He tried to fought back his anger– then just put back his helmet.

"You know what? Fuck you."

He walked straight back to the Ducati, determined to go. A surprised gasp from the top of the stairs interrupted his righteous anger.

"Uncle Jason!"

Shocked by the eagerness in the familiar voice, he turned back to find a smiling 19-year-old Dick Grayson beaming at him.

###

 _Earth 1 - Jason Wayne_

Jason's chin slipped from his closed fist, startling him awake. It was starting to get really late, even for Bruce. Or did this one patrol even later into the night? He glanced at the bottom corner of the main screen in front of him. 5:12. You couldn't even qualify this as night anymore.

He massaged the bridge of his nose, wishing for a cup of coffee even though he knew how bad of an idea that would be. When he'd gotten downstairs to the Cave three hours before, it had been because he couldn't find sleep. Pushed by habit, he'd settled in front of the computer, checking Bruce's status.

Alright, he might have had to slightly hack into the system, but it wasn't that different from the one back home and the local Bruce's thoughts patterns seemed close enough to his little brother's to make the task easier.

Jason hadn't pushed the vice to the point to actually talk into the com'. He'd just monitored Bruce's vitals. The Robin suit was at his place in the armory; Damian must have come back early because it was a school night. At least Bruce paid attention to that.

But that meant he'd been finishing the night alone. Jason couldn't force himself to get back to bed knowing as much. So he'd stayed there. As he always did.

An alert popped up on the main screen. Yawning, Jason checked it. It was merely an update from the surveillance laid by the GCPD on the docks. He flagged it as irrelevant and filed it in the Maroni section.

Of course, Bruce would double check everything he'd done, to make sure Jason hadn't corrupted the information, which would possibly take him more time than if Jason had just left the work to him. But he was bored.

They'd given him some clothes - Bruce's own, he assumed, since they mostly fit (if Alfred had bought them, he would have gotten the correct size, because he was magical) - so at least he hadn't had to hang out in his suit for one more day. Alfred had provided him with a room, and a delicious shepherd's pie.

What they hadn't provided was anything to keep him busy. Hence, the insomnia. He was enough prone to those without adding to it the lack of action - and the worry. He tried hard not to think of how his Bruce must be panicking over his disappearance.

Maybe he should just go back upstairs. He glanced longingly toward the mats. Or he could practice some katas? He'd shamelessly stolen a set of training clothes after an hour passed in the chill of the Cave. He should have thought it would be cold before getting downstairs in simple pajamas.

But no. Adrenaline would only make sleep more difficult to come whenever Bruce would finally show up. And he wasn't going back to bed as long as the damn fool hadn't made it back safely.

Who did wait for him, the rest of the time? Alfred? Jason thought he'd heard the old butler peaking at the top of the stairs about two hours ago. He shuddered while picturing his wrinkled face. Alfred was still a rock, of course, but he was getting old. Hell, he had to be at least 70 in this universe, hadn't he? Bruce couldn't ask him to keep going as he had a decade earlier.

And nevermind Alfred; Bruce was almost 40. He should be the one on computer duty, making sure his kids didn't get hurt. Making sure there was someone waiting for them when they got back, with something warm to drink and a few plasters to patch them up. Someone to have their backs if they needed it.

Jason sighed. This wasn't his world. It wasn't his place to criticize. Not that his Bruce listened to him.

The low sound of an engine echoed in the Cave's entrance, announcing the return of the place's master. Finally. The car parked in its slot - Jason idly wondered if Dick had labeled it 'the Batmobile' in this world as well - and Bruce stepped out of it. Despite the cowl, Jason could see his surprised.

"Hey. I couldn't sleep," he explained. He didn't feel the need to apologize; no one had forbidden him to come downstairs.

Bruce grunted as only answer. Of course. As he walked toward him, Jason noticed a slight stiffness in his pace. He frowned.

"The hips or the back?" he asked, getting on his feet and reaching for the first aid kit. Unsurprisingly, it was in the exact same place than in his world. Alfred's organizational skills, he guessed.

Bruce didn't answer, removing his cowl and putting it on the chair, glaring. Jason raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"If it's the hips, I'll leave it to you. If it's the back, I won't let you go to bed with an injury that will bleed all over Alfred's sheets. But maybe you can bend your elbows backward in this universe?"

Bruce scowled while pulling away his gloves, but this time, it was resigned. Jason pointed the medical table. Bruce sat on it with an irritated sigh.

The suit was a bit different than the one Jason was used to, but not so much to make it difficult to remove the upper part, not when the protections had been deactivated. There was a nasty slash right below Bruce's left shoulder blade. Just a flesh wound, nothing deep enough to have reached internal organs, but it still required stitches. And, of course, it had been done early in the night, which meant coagulated blood had glued it to the suit.

Jason peeled the fabric away as gently as possible. Thankfully, he managed not to reopen the wound. The he started working with the ease of habit.

The number of scars scattered on this Bruce's skin was frightening. He felt once more relieved to have surrendered to Alfred's ministration when he'd been 13; then accepted to stay at the manor with Bruce; then demanded to go with Bruce when he'd decided to wander around the world to shape himself into the Bat.

Jason didn't make any comment, though. He put a bandage over the wound once done, not bothering to list recommendations Bruce certainly knew as well as he did.

He closed zipped the first aid kit shut and put it back to its place, making a note on Alfred's supply list to buy other stitches to replace the set he'd used. Bruce observed him silently, then put on a loose t-shirt before settling in front of the computer, his back straight so his wound wouldn't touch the seat back. He noted how the access was opened and his files in order, but didn't comment.

Jason turned the electric kettle on while Bruce typed his report. When the water boiled, he prepared a mug of matcha tea and put it next to the keyboard. This time, Bruce flinched – then he took a sip. Looking up at Jason, he nodded, once.

Jason smiled, then left the Cave, satisfied to have seen Bruce's shoulder relax at last.

###

 _Notes:_

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite my own doubts! Feel free to leave a comment :)  
I'm on Tumblr!_


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